


The Wolf and the Bat

by chryssadirewolf



Category: DC Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Iain Glen as Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:53:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22370590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chryssadirewolf/pseuds/chryssadirewolf
Summary: Bruce Wayne decides he needs an assistant and hires C.S. Direwolf. Brilliant but socially awkward, she is slowly proving to be quite the asset.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Original Female Character
Comments: 14
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

He never needed an assistant before and he probably still didn’t need one, but she was very convincing and seemed capable. She also appeared to be introverted and borderline antisocial which would work to his advantage. He didn’t want someone who would be blogging and posting about their activities all over social media.

B: You’re hired. But don’t fuck up. I don’t give second chances.

C: I won’t fuck up. I’m very good at what I do Mr. Wayne.

B: *raises an eyebrow* We’ll see about that Ms. Direwolf. Curious name you have. Sounds predatory, feral.

C: *shrugs* It’s just a name, Mr. Wayne.

From the start, Ms. Direwolf was indeed very good at what she did. She could identify and correct errors in the coding faster than him, write scriptsto automate tasks from the mundane to the complex, and troubleshoot if something did not work as expected. What’s more, she streamlined Bruce’s workflow and made his systems so efficient he actually found himself with more time to devote to the research and development of new technology.

Bruce was genuinely impressed and he was never impressed. She was logical, highly intelligent, calm under pressure, and almost Vulcan in demeanour, he mused, which made him wonder sometimes if under that very controlled exterior, there was in fact a direwolf lurking just beneath the surface, a ferocious, and fearless one.

Of course, she was aware he studied her, sometimes tested her by introducing an error into one of the minor systems to see if she would detect it as well as to see how she dealt with high stress situations. But she was prepared. C.S. Direwolf was practiced in controlling and hiding her emotions, her thoughts. It came from years of being the nerdy tomboy the boys in school taunted and mocked. She had learned to hide her tender heart, to not show she had feelings so no one could hurt her as they once did. She perfected her non-chalance, her Data-like persona so well not even Bruce Wayne could see beyond the firewall she erected around her most sensitive systems. As far as he was concerned she was Ms. Direwolf, his accomplished, trustworthy, and unemotional assistant.

——————————————

Thanks to Ms. Direwolf, the testing lab at Wayne Enterprises became Bruce’s second home. He felt like a kid again with his new gadgets and tech toys he and Mr. Fox were creating. He’d draw up the blueprints and Mr. Fox would oversee the creation of prototypes to test. It had been a long time since he’d felt this creative, this inspired, but for the last six months, he’d been barraged with new ideas. It was like his creative self had come back from a long hiatus and now had tons of new ideas. It was exhilarating. But sometimes, also distracting.

It was late. He had just left the building and was checking his phone when he was ambushed. They must have been waiting for him and they must have also known that the element of surprise would be their best option of taking him down. Maybe they knew he was the Dark Knight or maybe they just wanted to mug some old rich guy they saw leaving the building at 3 am. Whatever their intentions, they were not good or honourable. They wanted to harm him, and boy did they try.

  
B: I’m getting too old for this shit.

He was surrounded, bruised (mostly his pride), and frankly annoyed more than anything. “Young scaliwags” Alfred would probably call them. “Fucking punks, more like it,” Bruce thought. They had something to prove and wouldn’t it just make them feel like men if they could tell everyone they kicked Bruce Wayne’s ass? So far, though, they hadn’t succeeded and there were 7 of them, half his age. Yet, he was still standing while some of them were already on the ground. But the big one, the one with the massive jaw, he was a bit harder to fell and just as he started running towards Bruce, a car came screeching around the corner pretty much like a bat out of hell appropriately enough. He recognised it immediately. It was one of his sports cars and as it raced to where he was standing, it spun around, swiped the behemoth coming for him, toppling the giant like a skittle, and came to a halt a few centimetres from Bruce’s feet. The passenger side door then opened and the driver said “Get in.” Bruce had only just climbed in before the car sped off into the darkness. As they raced through Gotham back to Wayne Manor, he quietly took note of the driver and how smoothly and nimbly she manoeuvred through the motorway at warp speed and shifted gears like Michael Schumacher, as Chopin’s Mazurka in A Minor, Opus 17, No. 4 filled the comfortable cabin of his Jaguar. Neither spoke a word until they arrived at Wayne Manor and it was Bruce who broke the silence.

B: *unbuckles seat restraint* Thanks for the ride. *opens car door and steps out, looking in before closing door* BTW, Ms Direwolf, where did you learn to drive like that?

D: PlayStation.


	2. Chapter 2

  
It felt good to let the hot water from the multiple water jets massage his sore muscles. It also felt good to know he could still kick ass. He definitely was not a young man anymore, though. When he woke up this morning, he felt like shit. His whole body felt like one big hurt.But as bad as he felt, he was pretty sure those punks felt worse, especially the one Ms. Direwolf side swiped with the car.As he got out of the shower he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he went to answer. It was Ms. Direwolf.

D: Mr. Wayne.

B: Timely transport and now room service. Careful Ms. Direwolf. You’re spoiling me. I might start expecting five star service all the time. *motions for her to enter*

D: I brought salve for the cuts on your hand and lotion for your sore muscles; it’s unscented. You won’t smell like my grandad.

Bruce smiled. He was never one to refuse ministrations from a beautiful woman.

Beautiful. He’d never thought of Ms. Direwolf as beautiful before. Brilliant, yes, accomplished and intelligent definitely. But beautiful?

Not that she wasn’t attractive even in oversized jumpers which hid just how slim she actually was. Her brown eyes had hints of gold that glistened in sunlight, so too did her dark brown hair, and that rare smile that would come out oh so briefly when a program she had tweaked or built line by line worked as she expected, her smile was soft and warm.

But she was not smiling now. Impassively she walked over to his dresser upon which she placed the porcelain jars containing the salve and the lotion, then waited patiently like an Edwardian valet for him to sit in the chair by the dresser so she could apply ointment to his cuts and rub lotion on his neck, back, and arms.

She always seemed to know exactly what he needed even before he did.

Bruce sat down and held out his hands to let her tend to the cuts. Her touch was gentle and experienced. She obviously knew what she was doing but then again when did she not?

B: Are you going to tell me how it is you seem to know what I’m thinking or feeling or let me continue to think you’re half Beta Zed like Counsellor Troi?

D: Counsellor Troi was half Betazoid. Betazed is the name of the planet. Your security system was programmed by you to monitor your location and to send an alert if ever your heart rate appeared elevated and you showed signs of being under extreme stress.When the alert popped up on my iPad I looked to see where you were and saw you on the CCTV cameras in front of Wayne Enterprises being attacked.

B: Why didn’t you call the police? Why did you come alone?

D: Because one of the men who attacked you _was_ a police officer. The facial recognition software identified him as Officer Patrick Mackenzie. The rest of them were local gang members with a history of assault and attempted murder, not theft.They weren’t there to mug you Mr. Wayne. They were there to kill you.   


B: And yet you came alone. 

Even with aching and bruised muscles, his reflexes were lightning quick. With the dexterity of a Jedi, Bruce gently but firmly grabbed one of Ms. Direwolf’s ministering hands in his.

B: For an intelligent woman, that was a pretty stupid thing to do. *voice subtly softens* They could have killed you.

Unperturbed by the sudden physical contact, Ms. Direwolf cooly slipped her hand out of his, wiped the remaining ointment from her fingers on the towel around his waist and put the lids back on the porcelain jars before unflinchingly meeting his gaze.

D: I can take care of myself Mr. Wayne. *turns to go* I’ll leave you to finish dressing. You have your board meeting to attend. 


	3. Chapter 3

A week had past since the attempt on his life and Bruce was no closer to figuring out who ordered the hit on him. Arkham Asylum, Blackgate Penitentiary, and City Hall were filled with people who hated Batman and Bruce Wayne and wanted both dead, people who would also stop at nothing to hurt and kill those closest to him.

B: Ms. Direwolf, I think it would be best if you moved in to the gatehouse. It’s only a short walk across the courtyard from here. It would be a more efficient use of your time if your commute to and from work was ten minutes instead of 60 each way.

D: More efficient yes but not more economical for me. I can’t really afford to live in this area Mr. Wayne. I’m not a billionaire.

B: Fortunately for you, Ms. Direwolf, I am.

D: I don’t understand.

B: I don’t need you to pay for rent, utilities, or for food, not even WiFi. Consider it a benefit I’m providing, like health insurance.

D: Would my pay remain the same?

B: Yes, your pay would remain the same and you would not be required to work more than 40 hours a week.

D: *incredulously* 40? Really?

B: Give or take.

D: I’d need a day off to move all my belongings.

B: Not really. Did I mention I’m a billionaire? I can have them packed up and brought over to the gatehouse for you.

Although she said nothing, Bruce could sense she was wary of his offer, not that he could blame her; it sounded too good to be true, after all.

B: It’s been my experience, Ms. Direwolf, that whenever someone wanted to kill me, they kidnapped and used people around me as bait, torturing and killing them in the process. I have enough blood on my hands. I don’t need you added to the list of people who died because of me. 

Just as his parents’ deaths haunted him when he was a young man, so Rachel’s death haunted him even now. She died because of him, because he failed to save her. He wasn’t going to let that happen again.

B: Well, Ms. Direwolf?

D: Shall I draw up a contract or will your solicitors draw one up?

B: You know how to draw up a contract? Of course you do. Why do I even bother asking? Is there anything you can’t do Ms. Direwolf?

D: My father was a lawyer, Mr. Wayne. He often reviewed the contracts people in our neighbourhood were asked to sign by their landlords.

B: Hmmm, let me guess, they tended to favour the landlords. I will ask my solicitors to draw something up and email you the form to review and sign.

D: Thank you Mr. Wayne.

————————————-

Now that Ms. Direwolf had moved in to the gatehouse, Bruce gave her free access to his library which is where he often found her when she wasn’t working. Although he’d never admit this to anyone, especially Ms. Direwolf, Bruce rather liked having another person around, someone to take meals with, not that they ate together frequently. She didn’t each much. In fact, when he first hired her, he didn’t think she ate or took breaks.

Still, she was everything Lucius said she was when he recommended her to him as an assistant, and now that she only had to cross the courtyard to get home, it made Bruce feel less guilty when she worked late, although, Bruce couldn’t help but wonder why Lucius recommended her in the first place. He hadn’t been looking for an assistant.

It was Lucius Fox who had hired and trained Ms. Direwolf to work in the tech department at Wayne Enterprises. She had been working there for five years before he recommended her to Bruce. He knew she would be the perfect assistant for Bruce given her talents and the similarities in their personal histories. Lucius also felt his friend needed someone in his life he could trust on both a personal and professional level. Bruce had been alone too long and it was not good for anyone, including the Dark Knight, to live out their life alone with no one to keep them in check and on which to check. Even creatures of the night needed a partner in order to survive.

L: How’s Ms. Direwolf working out?

B: Great. She’s smart, efficient, keeps to herself, doesn’t eat or use the toilet. I had no idea you’d succeeded in creating an android. I knew that was on your to-do list.

L: Well, with the funding you provide, anything is possible. Just don’t break her. Seriously, I wouldn’t have recommended her to you if she wasn’t brilliant.

B: Is that the only reason? Your department is filled with brilliant techs. I know, I paid for most of them to go to school.

L: She has potential, potential I thought might be wasted working as tech support.

B: Uh huh. You do know that’s what she does right? Provide tech support?

L: Oh I know. I know she restructured your mainframe so it actually works like it’s supposed to, I know she made it possible for you to leave your house and start developing new technology again, and I know she rescued your ass from some hoodlums right outside those double doors.

B: She didn’t rescue me. I had it handled.

L: She rescued you.


	4. Chapter 4

“Though much is taken, much abides; and though we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”

― Alfred Lord Tennyson,Idylls of the King and a Selection of Poems

The dinner was perfect as was his companion. She looked ravishing in a red body hugging dress and six-inch heels. All throughout the meal, her fingers either danced on the tablecloth or stroked his hand whenever he reached for his champagne flute to have a sip of the Dom Perignon "P2" Brut Rose she ordered, her favourite.

Selina was being her usual captivating self, dropping sexual innuendos like hailstones, softball sized ones. She was obviously up to something. She was always playing some game or another, toying with him, his senses, making him want her but never quite giving in to him.

Bruce had to admit he liked playing along, playing with the cat but he didn’t feel like playing tonight. Tonight he just wanted to go home, listen to some Schubert or Chopin, and read in the comfort and silence of his study.

Ignoring her pouting face as he poured her into a cab and sent it on its way, Bruce then got into his car. He had to adjust the seat and steering column when he first got in earlier in the evening because it was still set to Ms. Direwolf’s preferences. He could also still detect the faint smell of lavender soap on the seat until he picked up Selina, then all he could smell was Dolce and Gabbana. Her perfume filled the cabin of his Jaguar like a radioactive cloud. Bruce opened his windows and set the air conditioning to maximum as he drove home.

As he passed the gatehouse he noticed the lights were on. Ms. Direwolf was still awake, no doubt working on her iPad on some script or another. Her dedication equalled his own, surpassing it in some respects. Impulsively, he pulled in to the pathway by the gatehouse, got out, and knocked on the door.

D: Mr. Wayne.

B: Ms. Direwolf, may I come in?

D: Of course, this is your gatehouse.

As Bruce stepped inside, the sight before him seemed very cosy, very homey. On the chaise there was a plaid woolen throw while on the corner table there was a cup of tea and a book, “Idylls of the King and a Selection of Poems.” And in the background softly playing was Chopin’s Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2.

D: I did not expect you back this evening Mr. Wayne, is there a problem?

B: No, no problem. I just didn’t feel like staying out. *picks up and looks at the book* Tennyson. I read this in school. Are you familiar with Tennyson Ms. Direwolf? I didn’t take you for someone who read poetry.

D:*nods* I went to school, too, Mr. Wayne, maybe not to one as fancy as yours but our library also had books by Tennyson, Shakespeare, Keats, even if they were second hand and a bit tatty.

B: My apologies. I didn’t mean to sound so surprised. I only thought with your highly logical and brilliant mind, you favoured reading books by Stephen Hawking over Shakespeare.

D: One can like both. Would you like some tea? I just made a pot, chamomile.

B: Yes, thank you, I’d like a cup. *picks out another book from the shelf and sits down on the chaise*

D: *pours and hands him a cup and sits down next to him*

B: This is my favourite, Shakespeare’s Sonnets. Surprised?

D: No, as I said, one can be both highly logical and have a great affinity for poetry.

B:*fingers through book to sonnet 22 and starts reading out loud*

“My glass shall not persuade me I am old, so long as youth and thou are of one date; But when in thee time's furrows I behold, then look I death my days should expiate. For all that beauty that doth cover thee is but the seemly raiment of my heart, which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me: How can I then be elder than thou art? O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary as I, not for myself, but for thee will; Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary as tender nurse her babe from faring ill. Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain; Thou gavest me thine, not to give back again.”

B: *closes book and looks at Ms. Direwolf’s face*

For one millisecond, Bruce thought he saw a softness in Ms. Direwolf’s face that gave him pause and made him want to reach over and—*phone chimes*

B: Yes Lucius. Okay. Thanks. *hangs up* Ms. Direwolf. Thanks for the tea. *gets up to leave* Get some rest. We’re going on a field trip tomorrow.

D: Field trip?

B: Rome. To see an old friend. Goodnight.

Ms. Direwolf couldn’t sleep. It had been hours since Mr. Wayne came by and it was only a matter of hours before she had to get up to go to Rome with him … her employer. He was first and foremost her employer. Bruce Wayne was her boss and he paid her to keep his systems running at optimum levels; he paid her to be his assistant which is all she was. They weren’t friends or anything else. She’d do well to remember that, especially when she found herself pondering—as she did tonight while he read Shakespeare aloud—what it would feel like to run her fingers through his soft blonde hair.

What a curious man this Bruce Wayne was, aloof and impersonal most of the time, which suited her fine really. She wasn’t one to be very personable either. Yet, every now and again, there were those moments, imperceptible moments, when she would get a glimpse of someone else, a different man, one who was not so composed or controlled, one who read sonnets.

D: Who are you Mr. Wayne?

——————————————————

What the hell was that? What was he doing ditching Selena Kyle to go home—to go to the gatehouse and read to Ms. Direwolf? A sonnet no less! WTF was happening to him? Was he that lonely? “I’m not lonely, he told himself as he roughly plumped up his pillow. But even if he was, he had Selena Kyle practically fucking him at dinner, running her foot up his pant leg, stroking his hands. So why did he ditch Selena to spend time with his unemotional, barely human assistant, with Commander Data? Moreover, why take her to Rome with him? He really didn’t need her to come with him. He could easily stay in contact with her at all times thanks to the upgrades she made to the communications systems. *groans* He didn’t need this, he didn’t need her. Did he?

She made his systems run faster, better, more efficiently. She took on a lot of the programming tasks he used to have to do on his own. She somehow could anticipate his needs. How did she know before he did what he needed, what he was thinking?

B: Who are you Ms. Direwolf?


	5. Chapter 5

Since neither of them got much sleep the night before, they slept for most of the flight, waking occasionally to eat and to stretch their legs.

As they ate what was the equivalent of supper if they were still in Gotham, Bruce tried to learn a bit more about the enigmatic Ms. Direwolf.

B: Have you ever been to Rome Ms. Direwolf?

D: No, I have not.

B: Well, then, I shall have to give you a little tour of the city. Nothing in depth given the time frame.

D: What exactly is the nature of this trip Mr. Wayne? What purpose does it serve to have me along. Surely I could just as easily monitor and communicate with you virtually.

B: Would you have preferred I left you at home?

D: I’m simply trying to ascertain what my role is on this trip.

B: The same as it is at home, Ms. Direwolf, my assistant.

Ms. Direwolf was not satisfied with his answer. Yes, she was his assistant and yes, she worked out he was going to Rome for information on who was trying to kill him; moreover, this “old friend” was probably more like an informant who didn’t want anyone to know he’d been talking to Bruce Wayne, hence the cloak and dagger meet up. But why bring her? She wasn’t an MI6 operative nor was she a masked crime-fighting crusader.

While she may not have known definitively her boss was Batman, he definitely wasn’t your typical billionaire who attended charitable galas and played polo.Whoever it was trying to kill her boss wasn’t doing so because he was rich. But how could she possibly help him when she was just an assistant, which led her back to her original query, why bring her with him to Rome?

Bruce had been around Ms. Direwolf enough to know when she was working something out in that positronic brain of hers because she’d have this blank look on her face even though she tried to appear engaged in their conversation. She really was like an android sometimes. Truth be told, he was trying to figure out the same things: who wanted him dead and why did he bring her along.

Just then the plane took a rather unexpected dive then rolled left causing both Bruce and Ms. Direwolf to tumble to the floor. Bruce helped her back into her seat before making his way to the cockpit to find out what the hell was going. The moment he opened the door, he could hear and see it was not good. The instruments were going haywire as the pilot did his best to steady the plane and radio for help. 

Pilot: Mayday, mayday, this is Learjet 497DW. Newquay Cornwall Airport. Request permission for an emergency landing.

NCA: Learjet 497DW permissions granted. What is your ETA?

Pilot: 15 minutes Newquay Cornwall.

NCA:Acknowledged Learjet 497DW. Do you require emergency services?

Pilot: Negative, just a runway Newquay Cornwall.

B: I take it we’re not landing in Rome tonight?

Pilot: No sir, Cornwall.

Bruce always kept his planes in top shape, getting them serviced on a regular basis, not to mention the fact that they had state of the art systems that would compensate for any mechanical failures. For this oneto suddenly be having engine trouble over the Atlantic and not have the systems kick in to steady the plane was concerning to say the least. Thank God they were close enough to England to be able to land safely at the nearest airport.

B: *returns to his seat across from Ms. Direwolf* Change of plans Ms. Direwolf. We’re landing in Cornwall.

Bruce could see in her eyes she was frightened even though she maintained her composure. Remembering how she pulled away the last time he held her hand, Bruce opted to pat it gently. 

B: Don’t worry. We’ll be all right.

D: *swallows and nods* Okay.

Bumpy as the landing was, at least they landed in one piece. Nevertheless, Bruce had quite enough of travelling for now as had Ms. Direwolf. Thus, rather than taking a five and a half hour train trip to London, Bruce found a private country cottage in Cornwall for them to stay.

It was the quintessential English country cottage with stone walls, a thatched roof, and window boxes overflowing with geraniums. The landscape, too, looked like something out of Beatrix Potter what with flowers blooming in the front garden and sheep safely grazing in the nearby fields. Under any other circumstances, the setting would have been idyllic, except this trip was not supposed to be some idyllic romantic getaway but a fact finding mission meant to uncover who was trying to kill him. Not wanting to think any more on their situation, Bruce busied himself with making the cottage comfortable.

B: I’ll get the fire started and put the kettle on, if you want to use the bathroom first. I believe it’s upstairs. Might not be what you’re used to though. This is more Beatrix Potter rather than Harry I’m afraid.

D: Oh I don’t know. It’s rather like the Burrow, or actually, the shire. “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.”

B: Well, let’s hope no ring wraiths come looking for us any time soon.


	6. Chapter 6

With no WiFi, no telly, or radio, there really wasn’t much else Bruce and Ms. Direwolf could do except sit in front of the fire after dinner and talk. For the first several minutes they talked shop. After a while, though,the conversation became more personal.

B: *throws another log on the fire* I think it would be safer for us to travel commercial the rest of the way, maybe look more like tourists on holiday.

D: This isn’t 1985. You can’t disappear into the crowd so easily. Between facial recognition software, CCTVs everywhere, and the fact you’re Bruce Wayne, unless you wear a burka, I’m pretty sure anyone sophisticated enough to tamper with your plane’s systems will have no problem locating you. For all we know they’ve already determined where you are now and are sending someone to kill you tonight.

B: Thank you Ms. Direwolf for that cheerful prognosis. It’s just the sort of thing I like to hear right before I go to bed.

D: Fine, no one knows where you are or even who you are. As far as anyone is concerned you’re just some tourist on holiday. Better?

B: Oh much, only maybe next time use a little less sarcasm when you’re trying to be comforting.

D: I don’t relish the thought of assassins killing you and me in our sleep Mr. Wayne. Murder most foul is not something I thought I’d ever have to deal with again.

B: *frowns* Again?

D: My parents were murdered on their way home from work when I was 11 years old. We lived a block from the hospital where my mother worked as a nurse and two blocks from the free legal centre where my father worked. He and my mother were gunned down right in front of our apartment building. They never caught who did it.

B: I’m sorry. I was 10 when my parents were gunned down in front of me. The man who did it was shot and killed later by the police but it was only so the mastermind, Falcone, would not be implicated.

D: Did he ever answer for what he did? Falcone?

B: Sort of. He went mad, claimed he was attacked by a giant bat. He died in Arkham.

D: A giant bat. Interesting. Are there many bats, giant or otherwise in Gotham? I’ve not seen any before.

B: Quite a few actually. You just have to know where to look.

D: BTW, that police officer who attacked you, Patrick Mackenzie, his body was found in the river recently.

B: I know.

D: He had a family, and from all accounts he wasn’t dirty, he was quite honourable. His father had served with Commissioner Gordon back in the day and he himself had graduated top of his class at the academy. *shakes her head* What would make someone like that do what he did? He had a family.

B: *sighs* Unfortunately Ms. Direwolf, sometimes people make poor decisions out of desperation, fear, and/or grief. We may never know why he did what he did.

D: His children, they’re so young. What will happen to them now? Regardless of what he did or why, the end result is now his children will grow up without their father, their father who was murdered because he couldn’t or maybe wouldn’t kill you.

It never occurred to Bruce that maybe the first man who had attacked him, Officer Mackenzie, purposely failed to fatally injure him. The more he learned about the men who attacked him, this one in particular, the more questions he had and the more disconcerting it all was. For now, though, he just wanted to put it aside. It was too much to consider after almost crashing into the sea.

B: If you don’t mind I thought we might spend a few days here, maybe do some sightseeing. It’s not Rome but it has it’s charms.

D: You’re not worried about assassins lurking outside the chips shop ready to pounce?

B: *shakes head no and smiles* Not with you around to rescue me.

D: *smiles*

B: I’ve finally managed to make you smile Ms. Direwolf.

D: Goodnight Mr, Wayne.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter contains content for mature audiences only. I suggest you turn back if you don’t want to read anything naughty. That being said, I want to thank the ladies of the thirsting bar for helping me write this. I could not have written this without your valuable input.

Bruce didn’t sleep well. Between the small lumpy bed and his concerns for their safety, he tossed and turned all night until finally he decided to just get up and take a shower at first light. Quietly he checked in on Ms. Direwolf; she was still asleep. Taking care not to wake her, he undressed and turned on the shower. The water pressure was negligible and the shower head barely grazed his chin. It was obviously made for someone much shorter. From the bed, to the doorways, to the shower, everything about the cottage was little. He chuckled to himself at the notion it was actually made for a hobbit. Given how cold the water was, Bruce did not linger in the shower. But just as he stepped out of the tub, he saw a stunned Ms. Direwolf standing in the doorway.

Ms. Direwolf had not slept much in two days and was positively knackered. Thus, when she went to bed the night before, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow and she did not wake until the sun came up and peeked through the window. Barely conscious, she got up to use the bathroom and did not notice the shower was on and had just been turned off right when she came in. Through half closed eyelids she saw bare feet on the tile and they weren’t hers. As her gaze moved upwards, her eyes suddenly opened wide. Her boss, Mr. Wayne was standing in front of her, dripping wet and completely naked. The modest and appropriate thing for her to do was to close her eyes and back out of the bathroom. That’s what her brain and conscience told her to do. Her body though, would not comply. Instead she stood transfixed, staring at his ever burgeoning membranous, intromittent … organ. 

Bruce also stood transfixed, aware that he was naked and wet. Nevertheless, he allowed himself to drink in the sight of his normally fully clothed and covered, very proper assistant Ms. Direwolf standing before him in a paper thin nightgown, conveniently and strategically backlit by the sun’s gentle rays shining through the bedroom window. He never realised how slim and shapely she was but thanks to the sunlight, he was able to see through her nightgown, taking note of her small hip hugging panties and her nipples showing through, partly because the gown was so thin and partly because the cool morning air was making them pert and inviting. 

He could feel his heart beating faster as it pushed blood down the engorged and aroused length of him. Bruce knew he should cover himself with the towel he held in his hand, not that the towel would be able to hide how hard and erect he was at this point. Every fibre of his being was screaming she was his assistant and she had only entered the bathroom to use the toilet not be ravished by her employer. Wanting and trying to diffuse the sexual tension in the air, Bruce forced himself to speak.

B: *hoarsely* Ms. Direwolf. *swallows hard* I …

He fully intended to apologise and then exit as quickly as possible with whatever shred of decency he had left. No sooner had he said her name, however, than did she close the gap between them in two quick steps and slipped on the puddle of water that had pooled around his feet. Instinctively, Bruce dropped the towel, reached out, and caught her in his arms.

D: *breathlessly* Mr. Wayne.

Pulling her close, Bruce grazed her cheek with his lips and started kissing her neck while his right hand moved down her body to find the edge of her gown.

B: Bruce.

Ms. Direwolf moaned his name as his hand found its way under her gown to her already soaked panties.

D: Bruce. God. Please.

“Fuck,” Bruce thought to himself as he felt how wet she already was for him. There was no way in hell he would be able to stop himself now, not that she seemed to want him to stop. Still, if she did ask him to stop at some point, he would have to find a way.

Thankfully, she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to continue caressing her with his hands while his mouth and tongue did things to make her whimper and to grind herself against him. Vaguely mindful, however, they were still in the bathroom standing on a slippery wet floor, Bruce reluctantly pulled himself away so he could lead them carefully from the bathroom into the bedroom. Before he lowered them both onto the bed, though, Bruce took a moment to simply look at her, all of her.

She was so beautiful standing there with flushed cheeks, eyes bright with desire, disheveled hair, lips soft and slightly parted, and her gown clinging to her breasts and thighs. Tenderly Bruce, stroked her cheek before gently helping her out of her clothes.

Deftly he untied her gown, slipped his hands under the neckline, and nudged it off her shoulders, letting it fall on the floor before kneeling down to peel off her panties, all the while leaving a trail of hot kisses first on her breasts and then on her stomach before moving down to lick the wetness from her swollen lips.

Looking up, Bruce said “Ms. Direwolf” almost as if he was asking permission before proceeding to taste and savour her.

D: *intakes breathe sharply* Chryssa. *moans* I’m Chryssa.

Bruce could not help but smile naughtily at her response to his ministrations. 

D: God Bruce. *shoves her hands through his hair and holds on for dear life*

Chryssa could only moan and say “God” over and over as Bruce’s tongue teased and stroked her “on button” with the same sensuality she had seen him use to swipe the on button of his phone with his thumb. Were it not for the bed post and Bruce holding her up, she would have melted onto the floor beside her discarded nightgown.

Admittedly Chryssa’s experience was somewhat limited. However, never once did she experience this level of ecstasy and pleasure with any of her partners. None of the men she’d been with had ever done what Bruce was going now. What he was doing was maddening and she wanted to scream. So she did. She screamed his name and in doing so, unwittingly summoned the beast Bruce had taken great pains to keep in check.

From the moment she stepped into the bathroom and he felt her frisson of excitement as she made a detailed study of his anatomy, he wanted to pull her into the shower and fuck her hard against the stone wall. But he held back so he could stoke the fire he long suspected burned super nova hot within the cool and composed Ms. Direwolf. He wanted to bring her to the brink so they could reach satisfaction together. But when she screamed his name, something snapped and caused Bruce to abruptly stand up and lift Chryssa onto the bed.

His heart was pounding so loud, it drowned out all sounds save Chryssa moaning and saying “please Bruce” as he used his fingers to part her honeyed folds and guide himself into her slick and hypersensitive core.

Now it was Bruce who moaned as the tightness he encountered sparked every nerve ending like a Tesla coil. No longer able to think clearly or rationally, he gave in to the visceral feelings Chryssa inspired and let instinct take over. Chryssa too could no longer think rationally. All she wanted was for him to go deeper and harder. Thus, every time he entered her, she thrust herself upwards to sheath the entire length of him. By now, Bruce was no longer able to speak or think. He just kept pounding her and matching the intensity of her thrusts with his until finally, he exploded inside her causing them both to make a loud intelligible sound that shook the walls of the storybook cottage.


	8. Chapter 8

Chryssa fell asleep quite quickly after their early morning activities which Bruce found incredibly endearing. Wanting to make them more comfortable, he decided to take all the extra duvets and pillows he could find in the wardrobe and make a little nest for them in the sitting room in front of the fireplace while Chryssa slept. Once he was done arranging everything, he picked Chryssa up, carried her into the sitting room, and laid her down gently on the blankets. As he settled in next to her, he smiled as she moved closer to him, molding her body to his by draping one leg over his, nestling her face in the crook of his neck, and resting her arm on his chest while her fingers played a sonata on his taut abdomen.

It was late afternoon when Chryssa finally woke up. She was somewhat disoriented at first, wondering why and how she ended up in the sitting room in front of the fireplace. As she slowly began to remember what happened earlier, she smiled like a Cheshire. It was only when her conscience kicked in she started feeling bad and embarrassed.

_D: What exactly is the nature of this trip Mr. Wayne? What purpose does it serve to have me along. Surely I could just as easily monitor and communicate with you virtually._

_B: Would you have preferred I left you at home?_

_D: I’m simply trying to ascertain what my role is on this trip._

_B: The same as it is at home, Ms. Direwolf, my assistant._

“My assistant.” Ugh. She felt sick when she remembered the conversation they had on the plane a mere 30 hours earlier. What had she done? Bruce Wayne was her boss and she just had sex with him. Chryssa had never been in this situation before. In the five years she worked in the IT department at Wayne Enterprises, she never dated, much less had sex, with anyone, especially not her boss. She never had any inclination to interact socially with Mr Fox. But from the moment she met Bruce Wayne, she felt drawn to him. 

Sighing, she wrapped herself up in one of the duvets and made her way back to her room to get dressed. She blushed when she saw her panties and gown on the floor, and when she entered the bathroom to take a shower.

Bruce was in the kitchen making them brunch when he heard Chryssa stir. In the corner of his eye, he saw her wrap herself up modestly in a duvet and walk up to her room. When she finally came down to join him in the kitchen, she gave him a shy little smile while avoiding eye contact.

B: I made us a light brunch. Tea or coffee?

C: Tea please.

B: *Places a plate of toast, egg, and fruit before her* You don’t have to eat it all if it’s too much.

C: No it’s fine, thank you Mr. —Bruce.

Bruce had absolutely no regrets over what had transpired between them and hoped she didn’t either. However, her rather quiet and shy demeanour made him think otherwise. As she stood at the counter across from him silently eating, Bruce came around to where she was, put his arms around her waist and kissed her tenderly first on the temple, then turned her towards him so he could kiss her deeply on her lips. She melted into him like wax. Taking a deep breath, Bruce then kissed her sweetly on her nose before pressing his forehead to hers. 

B: I’ve wanted to do this from the moment I met you.

C: *frowns and starts to pull away* Is that why you hired me?

B: No, of course not. I’m not some medieval liege lord who hires beautiful women just so he can have his way with them.

C: Then why?

B: I honestly was not looking for an assistant but Lucius spoke so highly of you, you piqued my interest. I wanted to meet this brilliant Ms. Direwolf he said could restructure my security and communication systems and make them run more efficiently. And you did. You impressed me Chryssa and I don’t impress easily. I also don’t make a habit of sleeping with my employees.

Fleetingly, a distant memory came to the fore.   
  


**************

_B: Rachel, all of, all this, it’s not me. Inside, I am, I am more._

_R: Bruce, deep down inside you might still be that great kid. But it’s not who you are underneath, it’s what you do that defines you._

**************

B: I don’t know what you’ve heard or read about me but I’m not that billionaire playboy they write about in those tawdry society blogs.

C: *looks down distractedly at his shirt buttons* What makes you think they still write about you? 

B: *runs his hand through his hair and rubs his neck* Ouch.

C: Anyway, I don’t read tawdry society blogs Mr. Wayne, and I certainly do not make a habit of sleeping with my employer.

B: Well that’s a relief. I’d hate to think I was sharing you with Lucius.

Chryssa was not amused by that last comment and showed her displeasure by pushing him away—hard. Undeterred and chuckling, Bruce reached for her and managed to once more wrap her in his arms.

B: I’m joking. I’m joking. *sighs* Chryssa. I’m not exercising my droit de seigneur. That’s not who I am.

_“I am more.”_

C: I’ve never been in this kind of situation before. I don’t know how to make this—me—not look or feel so cheap and dirty.

B: What we did was not cheap or dirty.You are not cheap or dirty. I refuse to let you think that. *strokes her cheek* Do you know why I came home early that night from my dinner with Selena Kyle? I wanted to go home, listen to classical music, and read a book more than I wanted to be with her. 

C: Then why did you come by the gatehouse?

B: Because what I truly wanted was to do those things with you: to spend the evening listening to classical music and reading a book with you.


	9. Chapter 9

Blood. So much blood but whose? Paulo was dead so it must have been his. Then why did Bruce feel like he was about to pass out and what was that burning sensation in his side?

**3 hours earlier**

Situated in a private residential neighbourhood in Aventino,Villa Rosanotte, was very different from Wayne Manor. Whereas Wayne Manor was full of dark wood, dark walls, and looked and felt like a cave, albeit one filled with expensive paintings and furnishings, Villa Rosanottewas small, pastel coloured, and felt like a family home. Throughout the house there were photos of Bruce’s parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne, as well as of Bruce as a little boy, and there were paintings by Bruce’s great aunt hanging on the walls. The furnishings looked a bit worn but still quite lovely and cosy. It was beautiful.

B: *takes Chryssa’s hand* Let me show you the view of the gardens from the bedroom balcony.

C: Oh my goodness. It smells wonderful. *looks down* I love roses.

B: Most of those roses were planted by my mother and father when they first got married. This house was my father’s wedding present to his beautiful bride. *puts his arm around her waist*

C: *looks at Bruce and smiles* That’s so sweet.

B: *pulls her towards him and kisses her softly on her lips* I’ve never brought anyone here.

C: No? Not even Ms. Kyle?

B: You overestimate her importance in my life—to me, Ms. Direwolf. *starts nuzzling her neck*

C: We are here on business Mr. Wayne. *gasps* I have … I have to set up … check the connectivity … run diagnostics … make sure everything is in good. Working. Order.

Chryssa was trying to think, to remember all the things she had to take care of before Bruce met with his informant but he was making it impossible for her to even breathe what with his hands unbuttoning her shirt and the top of her jeans.

*********************

Bruce was being truthful—he’d never brought anyone to this house before. This house was too special, too personal. It was where his parents fell in love. Thomas Wayne had been trying to impress Martha Kane with his knowledge of ancient Roman architecture and history when they came upon an old, neglected, but nevertheless, beautiful house in a quaint little neighbourhood in Aventino. As they stood in its overgrown garden, watching the sun set, Thomas knew from the moment she kissed him, he and Martha were meant to be together. 

Likewise, Bruce knew that evening at the gatehouse, as he read Sonnet 22 to Chryssa, she was more than just an assistant, more than a bit of skirt. Still, at the time he didn’t quite understand why he felt compelled to bring her to Rome with him until they arrived at the villa. Bruce needed and wanted to bring Chryssa to Rome so he could in some strange way introduce her to his parents and them to her.

**********************

C: Do you have the coordinates for this meeting you have with Paulo? I did a quick background check and he’s had several run ins with the local police for drug trafficking and even Interpol for smuggling immigrants in from Morocco.

B: *walks into the sitting room from the bedroom* He usually only sends me his location right before I’m to meet with him.

C: Wonderful. How am I supposed to secure the perimeter? And how often do you meet with drug dealing, immigrant smuggling criminals?

B: You know I would think our activities earlier would have made you a bit more relaxed, not to mention exhausted. *winks*

C: *blushes and frowns* You may be used to all this but I’m not. I need to make sure you are safe and that I can get to you quickly if something goes wrong.

B: *sternly* No. Absolutely not. You are not going to come and get me. You will call the police. *sits down next to her* Do you understand?

C: I’m not stupid.

B: You’re also not in Gotham. It was dangerous enough for you to have come for me there, all the more so here. *voice and expression softens* Chryssa please. I want your word you will call the police if something happens.

C: I give you my word I will call the police.

B: *phone chimes* Okay, I have the coordinates. *kisses her* Don’t worry. I’m just going to talk to him, that’s all.

Chiostro della Basilica dei Santissimi Quattro was an old dark church originally built in the 4th century and rebuilt in the 11th century by Pope Pasqual II. As Bruce walked through the church and made his way to the gardens, he took note of his surroundings. In spite of hisdubious activities, Paulo was a reliable informant and could have valuable information which is why Bruce felt it was worthwhile to meet with him. Pushing open the heavy wooden doors leading to the gardens, aside from a few nuns he passed in the arched passage way surrounding a fountain, the gardens were still and empty with only the sound of the water to break the silence.

Then he saw Paulo emerge from the shadows. Knowing time was of the essence, Paulo cut to the chase.

P: There is a price on your head. Something to do with an old case.

B: What case? I’m not a lawyer Paulo. I’m just a businessman. Are you sure it’s me not Batman they want dead?

P: *shakes head* Bruce Wayne.

Suddenly Bruce heard a noise, muffled and almost imperceptible because of the water fountain. He turned to see where it came from but saw nothing. Instead, when he looked back at Paulo, he saw him crumple to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. As he lay bleeding on the ground, his life oozing away, Paulo put a small usb drive into Bruce’s hand before expiring.

B: Shit.

Bruce did not want to leave Paulo there dead but he had no choice. He could not risk being seen next to a dead body nor be shot like Paulo. Quickly he made his way back on to the medieval street outside the church when he heard the screams from the cloister. The nuns had found Paulo’s body. “At least they would say prayers for him,” Bruce thought. No doubt the police would soon be alerted and swarm the church so Bruce only had seconds to get as far away as possible and make his way back to the villa. He shoved the bloody usb into his pocket and went to disappear into the crowds on the busy boulevard beyond the street outside the church. Just as he was about to step onto the main thoroughfare, however, something made Bruce look down at his shirt.

Blood. So much blood but whose? Paulo was dead so it must have been his. Then why did Bruce feel like he was about to pass out and what was that burning sensation in his side? He felt his knees buckle as he tried desperately to hold himself him on the wall of the nearby building before everything went black.


	10. Chapter 10

Chryssa had started monitoring Bruce from the moment he left the villa. Before he’d even arrived at the basilica, she already had all the CCTV feeds of the location on her screen and had activated the tracker she placed on Bruce’s lapel. It was the size of a hair but, nevertheless, was so powerful, it provided audio and video as clear as if she was there. Hence, the moment Paulo was shot, true to her word, Chryssa called the police … after she’d contacted Lucius.

Lucius was in a meeting with investors in Milan when Chryssa texted him. Rising calmly from the boardroom table, Lucius excused himself so he could arrange for emergency services to pick Bruce up and take him to a private hospital for treatment.

B: Wha— *tries to get up*

L: Woe, woe. Lie back down. You’re not going anywhere for a while.

B: *groans* Ugh, I feel like I got my ass kicked.

L: You did back in Gotham, but here you were shot.

B: Shot?

L: Well technically the bullet that went through poor Paulo just grazed your side. Your lucky that’s all it did.

B: There was so much blood.

L: Most of it was Paulo’s. Only some of it was yours.

B: The usb. Where’s the usb?

L: Relax. Chryssa and I were able to download and replace the info before the police took it.

B: Where is Chryssa?

L: She’s with the police. Don’t worry, she’s not alone. Our solicitors are with her, not that she needs them there. She’s got it all handled.

B: I didn’t want her to be involved, Lucius, to be in danger because of me. To end up like Rachel.

L: Bruce, you have to stop blaming yourself for what happened to Rachel. There was nothing you could have done. Anyway. Chryssa is not Rachel.

A week after the incident, Bruce was finally released from the hospital and allowed to recuperate at the villa under Chryssa’s care. Lucius meanwhile, followed up on the information Chryssa managed to download from the usb before the police confiscated it.

C: *frowns* Bruce, you didn’t eat your breakfast. How do you expect to recover if you don’t eat? You’re so naughty.

B: *pulls her onto his lap* I am indeed, Ms. Direwolf. *starts kissing her neck* So very naughty.

C: *breathlessly* Bruce.Please *moans* Your stitches.

God the things this man did to her. Even injured and reclining on the chaise, he could make every nerve in her body come alive with just a touch. He was supposed to be resting not caressing her incredibly sensitive nipples first with his fingers then with his tongue.He was supposed to be relaxing in the sunshine not sliding his other hand down her pants and using the slickness already there to insert his fingers inside her.

C: *whimpering* Bruce! *threads her fingers through his hair*

Chryssa wanted him inside her so badly and he knew it. He knew it because he wanted the same thing. But just as he moved to get up, he winced.

C: Bruce! Your stitches! We have to stop. This isn’t good for you.

B: Au contraire Mademoiselle. This is exactly what I need. You are what I need—if we stop, it might kill me.

Bruce was not exaggerating. He was already hard and throbbing, something not lost on Chryssa as she sat on top of him, her own body responding to his, wet and wanting.

She didn’t want to stop but she also didn’t want him to accidentally tear open the wound in his side from exertion. Gently Chryssa pushed Bruce back to a reclining position and without speakingor breaking eye contact, she got up off him just long enough to remove her clothes—all her clothes—as Bruce watched.

At first when she got up, he felt a pang of disappointment, thinking they were not going to go any further. Instead, he watched as she seductively peeled off all her clothes, then gently pulled off his, tossing them to the floor, before climbing on top of him and taking hold of his erection so she could guide him inside her. Now it was his turn to say please as she started slowly moving up and down, at first only letting his tip inside her. Then as their needs became more urgent, she started moving faster and pushing herself down lower.

B: *groans* Chryssa. Fuck! *growls*

Bruce could no longer form words or think. All he could do was grunt or growl as she boldly rode him like a Valkyrie. The louder he growled, the faster she went as if she was spurred on by the guttural and primal sounds he was making. Up and down, faster and more urgently Chryssa moved, all the while moaning and whimpering as she pushed down to completely envelop him and make him feel the searing heat, the kinetic energy they were generating as she accelerated.

Finally, when he felt like he could bear it no longer—the blinding ecstasy of feeling her stroking him with her hot wet core—Bruce cried out as he felt that sweet release both of them needed so badly. Leaning forward with him still nestled snugly inside her, her breasts grazing his chest and making every hair tingle, Chryssa kissed Bruce on his mouth but was disconcerted to taste the saltiness of his tears.

Alarmed that he was in pain and the stitches had torn open, Chryssa sat up so she could examine his wound. It looked fine.

C: *puzzled* Bruce?

Bruce couldn’t explain why he was moved to tears, only that there was something so overwhelmingly tender and intimate in the way she pleasured him—pleasured them—he couldn’t hold back all the emotions he’d kept hidden for so long.

There were no words in any spoken language he could think of to express how much it meant to finally be able to experience the level of intimacy he felt with her, to be able to take off his mask.

Too exhausted to think further, Bruce pulled Chryssa down and held her as she lay on top of him, her body melting into his, her heart beating in synch with his, her chest rising and falling with his, the two of them joined together by this newfound connection like strands of a double helix.

_Maybe when Gotham no longer needs Batman …_


End file.
